Heart Rate 2412
by chicken matango
Summary: Reality wanted her to forget she was a sickly girl named Diane who grew up with a hole in her chest. Life wanted him to realize that he failed to protect his sister Elaine. But fate wanted them to meet, to have them both learn that deep in the crevices of everyone's hearts, the purest form of miracles existed. –King and Diane; various other pairings; Modern AU
1. The Sound of Miracles

Disclaimer: I do not own NNT, its characters and/or its plot. I also do not own the cover image.

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_oo. The Sound of Miracles_

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'_Where am I…?'_

Her body felt dead to her. It was more than just the heaviness of her limbs and the numbing in her bones. Her senses were sharper than broken glass and they seem to register everything around her like some sort of hazy dream. If she didn't know any better…she was really dead, bound to the grave a few hours later. Her soul appeared distant and it was as if it was beginning to leave its discarded shell to the ashes.

'_That's right…I died a few hours ago…'_

But if the girl was leaving for heaven or wherever, it'd be nice if the people who managed those places would at least give her directions to get there. There wasn't a door to the afterlife panning across her vision, no elevator or escalator colored gold, there wasn't a gate of bronze or lakes of fire. Not even a cent of dimly patched light would rise above her.

It was dark, like the feeling of emptiness. But the darkness almost felt natural in a way, it wasn't something that'd make her uneasy. Listening past the silence was what seemed like steady breaths. It was the sound of life against her ears. Her brows furrow in confusion as the sensation drew closer, caging her in with inconsistent thoughts. The sound of lungs squeezing and inflating was so distinct that she was almost convinced that it came from inside her.

But there was no time to process that –all of sorts of things start piling up on her age old soul, it made her think of how closely she was being pulled back into the real world. She could sense the ruffle of cloth under her skin and the dryness of the Sahara desert in her mouth. The silence isn't just the sound of breathing, there's the humming of a fan, and the tickle of sunlight. There was that annoying beeping noise stabbing her right ear and bits of whispers drifting from a distance.

Then the girl realized how her heart wasn't as tense as it was before. It felt normal and at peace inside her ribs as it pressed against her ribcage with each steady thump. Each unsuccessful attempt to count her heartbeats lead her to thoroughly believe that she was…._alive_.

'_How is this possible -?!'_

Everything seemed so unbelievable and unreal and vague. She didn't know what to think of it. It confused her and it made her weary, but more so, it beckoned her to accept and believe that she still had a chance. Reality wanted her to forget that she was a sickly girl named Diane, who grew up with a hole in her heart. It wanted her to forget that she saw the hospital as her home. It wanted her to erase the freshest memories of a doctor telling her that she'd die, her father saying goodbye to her over and over again, how she never had friends because she didn't want to see anymore sad faces when she left.

The machine that monitored her pulse made a noise that rose up with each beep, the screen displaying sharp streaks across a green line. In her hospital bed, Diane realizes that the darkness really was just the skin of her eyelids forcing the light away. The sharp white paint they used for the ceiling made it troubling to adjust to, it took the girl three long sets of blinking to get the blurry after-effect and the bright light all together.

Her pale fingers flexed slightly under the gripping tightness that held unto her hand. It was a heavy kind of warmth, forming beads of sweat between her fingers. But the traces of dry skin and the sensation of hard-work strewn across the tightness was all she needed to know who it was without batting an eyelash or tilting her head. The hand loosens its hold on her hesitantly.

"Good morning, Diane…" her father squeezed her hand again, restoring the gentle grip he had on her, "…How're you feeling?"

He had his back against the window that poured the sunshine in, his face was bone dry, and his eyes were rimmed with dark circles. But there was a smile on his face, the type of smile that spelt hope and happiness and relief in the way it curved his lips. She knew she had to say something, but her voice felt so unused for so long that it croaked and rattled at the bottom of her throat.

Her lips move, but there isn't a sound, just the lapses of her hot heavy breathing and the nervousness that made her lips quiver against themselves. But her father didn't need to pester; being with her all throughout those long years of torture without a mother had him at a point where he knew more about his daughter than himself.

"We found a donor Diane, just in the nick of time." he released a sigh, a breath that looked heavy as his shoulders sag. "You're….you're alive, Diane, it's…a miracle."

Her lack of words was an understandable thing. Both of them could read actions as much as they could read words. So she cried. Her eyes were doing the talking for her, and her father hugged her out of his own happiness, and out of habit. He always hugs her when she cries, but this time was different. He was crying too.

She didn't know who the donor was –but she still pressed a shaking hand to her chest, her gratitude was almost directed to it, as if Diane had a connection with that person through her chest.

'_Thank you so much…'_ her fingers thread through the material of her hospital gown, _'…whoever you are….you're a….a hero!'_ She contented herself with how the heart sent out tiny thumping rhythms to her hand regardless of the wall of skin. It felt like she was reading a secret code. It felt like replies from the original owner.

The sound of tears was the happiest sound they had ever heard in a long time. But the beat that sent blood through her veins was the sound of miracles at work.

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End notes:

[1] I've decided to release Heart rate first. :) It'll be an Modern AU fic, obviously. I actually planned out 3 major fics I'm going to write. Two AU including this one, and one canon one. I planned the canon one a long time ago, but I went with this first because I wanted some type of confirmation on Diane and King's relationship in the manga before releasing it to avoid myself getting demotivated. Something that'll make me safely say, 'Aye, it's time to release that one.' I think this AU would buy me some time while waiting for the right moment :D.

[2] About the oneshots, well...I haven't really posted the poll just yet since I wanted to post the first chapter first before putting it up. Plus I went through a type of posterior hurt that involves your hamstrings from sitting cross-legged on my chair...ahehe. Anyways, please don't stress your rear muscles or they'll hurt like _hell_. XD

[3] There might be some of you who don't enjoy AU. I'm not pressing you to read this fic. :3 If you're really patient, you can wait for my canon fic. But if not, then maybe this isn't the right fic for you. :) I'll understand that. But those who can at least bear with AU, then I hope you'll enjoy this.

[4] I'll update this weekly, or possibly whenever I can, but I hope to finish it while I still have summer to write it XD.


	2. What You Would Have Wanted

Disclaimer: I do not own NNT, its characters and/or its plot. I also do not own the cover image.

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_o1. What You Would Have Wanted_

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There was water dripping off his cheeks.

He wasn't inclined to find out if was the rain or actual tears. Either way, the drops were cold as ice. He was partially thankful for it for many reasons. But out of all those silly reasons, the truth was that it had him one step above insanity. Something about _feelings, _emotions and anything else that had to do with not being numb to the things around him. It was nice to say that he hadn't lost himself completely to the pain and shock, that he still had some sort of hold on the world.

He's been living in a monochromatic situation the hours before, see, one more tread into that place and he felt like he could puke from the suffering. They're probably looking for him, but he just couldn't turn back. He had to run the moment he was called to step beside her and give her words of farewell –a speech of mourning and loss.

But no words would describe the state of slow and painful crumbling he was going through. Even if they were inlaid, ready at hand as ink and paper, he still wouldn't have enough will to read it. Not with her stillness haunting him, not when her smile was plaster and her cheeks were colored in an unnatural shade of pink.

He can't. He just can't. Not when she's dead and he couldn't do anything to save her.

The boy stood motionless under a lamp post a corner away from the church. His black shirt was sticking to his body, and the demons inside him laughed at how it almost represented the weight of his sin. His head fell in disgust at the thought.

To think that his March, the one month that mattered, would end up in shambles. It was pulled up in flowers and garlands with his sister's name on it, it was white like the shade of her shroud, it smelled metallic and filled his eyes with the most unsightly mangle of red and blond and-

'_STOP IT!'_

The underside of his fist met the steel pole of the lamppost in the harshest manner that his strength could offer him. The pain tingled up his nerves in a way that was enough to keep his mind away from the jittery laughter in his brain. He hated losing things that mattered to him. If at all, the one thing he still had left to protect was his sanity. He punched the pole a few times more, and the light visibly wobbled from the violent motion. This time around though, the boy knew that it was his tears that slithered down his jaw.

They were warm. Unlike the rain, his tears were warm and bitter, and he was glad they were. It meant he still had a heart that would allow him to cry. In his mind, he wished that it'd rain on and on and on that night, wanting some sort of washable sorrow. He didn't have the bravery to pad down the street back to his seat near her gold coffin. That much was enough for him, admitting that he was done, really.

"I…don't have the strength to go back…" he whispered, watching his pathetic reflection from a nearby puddle. "E-Elaine…" the sharp of wrist met his eyes in an attempt to brush his tears away, "…I'm so sorry. I'm…a worthless brother…"

He was sure the rain would be an impending precursor of a storm. At least, that's what his tears told him. But a blue umbrella hiding him from the rain had the thought falling away shortly. The light from the lamppost was no longer a lonely type of comfort as it was filtered into a blue-ish hue under the umbrella that suddenly popped out from the shadows. The boy scowled under the shade as he spotted, from the corner of his eyes, two red eyes under sharp white hair strands lined by expensive gel.

"….Go away Ban, I don't need you here."

The taller male only shrugged at the unpleasant greeting.

"We both know that you shouldn't be here either."

The silence that followed was a batch of awkwardness and mutual understanding that came from how they lost one important person in their life that night. Two birds with one stone, truthfully, regardless of how morbid that sounded. Both of them admitted that they had no say in Elaine's death because they were both at fault.

Ban had a little bit more self-control, if he could ever call it that. He just knew when to show his remorse and when not to. "Elaine misses you, King." is what he manages to say, a warm breath against the icy air that the rain brought. "I've loved her long enough to know that _you_ matter to her." He sluggishly placed his hand on the smaller male's head, being as gentle as he can be so as to not offend the poor lad. "And I still love her enough… to know that she wants to see you say goodbye…" The edge of his mouth dipped in a frustrated way as the boy didn't even move under his hand.

He would have been dead in Ban's eyes if he wasn't standing or breathing inconsistently beneath the dark blue umbrella. And if he wasn't Elaine's brother, he would have smashed that lost look on his face and he'd tell him to suck it up. But he didn't, simply because it was rude to do so at her funeral, of all the days. He might as well reserve that for later.

He settled for kicking puddle water high enough to touch the younger boy's face. "Oi oiiiii. You better get your ass back in there or I will drag you in the way _she_ wanted me to drag you." The metal bar of the umbrella almost broke from how tightly his fingers wrapped around it in vain. "Do you _want_ me to get Cap'n out here so we can both stick you to your seat?!"

Ban expected more than a disgruntled sigh and a casual face-wipe from him, maybe an outburst, like the usual days. But then again, today wasn't a regular day at all for all of them. King drew his breath in a raspy way like all the times he's done so far, it kept him calm, even for a little bit. "…I don't understand this." his fingers grew pale as they balled up at his sides, giving his right hand a bit of color contrast to show off the pumping red bruise at the edge of his palm. The pain seared into his nerves like tiny needles, yet he couldn't care less.

"I don't understand how you of all people get to be so horrifyingly calm when…" King inhaled sharply, glaring straight into Ban's unimpressed eyes, "…when….when Elaine's _gone_ and _you_ saw her get…!"

His jaw bone makes an unpleasant boney sound against Ban's knuckles when his fist meets his cheek, the impact had him staggering back first against the lamppost. If women had their dramatic slaps, men made their way through their punches, or as the taller male's mind suggested. He started losing his patience when King made it seem that he was the one at fault, that he was the coward, with all the daggers in his words and eyes. Ban circled his wrist in a menacing way, "Yeah, I'm calm. So what?" the way he spoke was barred by his frustration and gritted teeth, if Ban had been more lose with his words he might just have called his friend a bastard, a coward, amongst everything else that was negative about King at that moment. "Does it look like I'm _not_ in pain? Does it look like I'm not suffering because I _lost_ someone I love?! Do you even know how hard it is to keep my composure with her body sitting there?!" a small, snickering laugh started dropping from his lips as he spoke even more, "You don't hear me crying or wailing like a little kid at all….you know why? ...She won't be in peace if I cry. She hates it when I cry."

"It's all I can do for her now…the last thing she'd want me to do for her sake." Ban's hands burrowed themselves into the pockets of his pants, fearing that if he'd succumb even more to his emotions he'd hit King again, this time without holding back. "…I'm sure as hell that she doesn't want to see you acting like that either, b-r-o-t-h-e-r." he frowned at the lack of response to his bluntness. He didn't like it when King started ignoring him like that. "Tsh…you're wasting your tears your highness. Better cry when you're alone, not like this."

He scowled even more as he watched King merely rubbing his cheek gingerly, as if brushing the pain off as nothing. The shadows that hid his eyes were darker than ever now and the life in his face was completely sucked up by the tear stains and quivering lips. It was a tragic face, like everyone else at Elaine's funeral, except him sadly. "Khh…you keep talking about me, of all people. That's all I hear from that mouth of yours. But I don't hear you talking how you, the brother, is cowardly shunning himself from his responsibilities." the umbrella was no longer above King's head; it was discarded to the puddles when Ban's fist flared in his annoyance.

"Do your sister a favor and man up." His tone was slightly lower this time, a bit of sympathy leaking through his usual harshness. "You know what to do, King. You always know what to do…" his head bowed under the pale light of the lamp, "…that's…what she told me, one day before she grew wings and flew off on her own."

King tilted his head a bit, eyes focused on Ban who had his back turned and his lonesome gaze staring at the church's lights glowing yellow, just down the street. He didn't have the voice to go up against everything he had said. The truth was merciless and unforgiving just as life was. And at that moment life wanted him to realize how he failed to protect his sister Elaine, it made him want to quit and crawl into a hole and rot himself to death.

But Ban sent out a tsunami stronger than the rain. It might just have washed away his sorrow…._might_, if only temporarily. It was more than enough to have King a tad bit braver than he previously was when he ran away. It's just the push he needed.

"…You're right, Ban." a corner of his mouth tipped up with a hesitant breath, "I should go…for my sister. It's the best thing I could do for her now." King picked up the umbrella immediately, noticing how it slowly became a makeshift puddle as the rain threatened to fill it up. He shagged the water out and brought it up to his head, saving the last of his dryness and dignity for his mourning speech.

"I'll go. Thanks for….convincing me."

His mind wanted to ask Ban if he had an intention to follow, but the taller man's head was tilted down in a way that said _'don't bother me, you go ahead.' _King didn't want to dwell on how he looked as lost as he was moments before, so his steps went over the puddles in a hasty manner. He didn't look back, nor did he plan to keep himself glued to the past.

He clung to the umbrella with a determined and new-found will sprouting sparks inside him, and all the words he wanted to say to her started rushing into his mind. When he abandoned that corner of the street, he began to understand what it meant to move on, at least even for a tiny measure that would keep him living without Elaine.

The rain stopped when he entered the church, everyone's eyes glowing like beads of light as the sun shone from the distance. If they hadn't known any better, the sun behind the young man's back made him look angelic in a sense. It put their hearts at ease.

"I'm…sorry for running out like that, everyone," he smiled, and it was the most sincere smile he made in the last few hours, "I won't run away anymore, starting now."

That's what Elaine would have wanted, for him to move on. But if King took the time to turn his head to the streets behind him, he might have noticed the gentleman in a black suit, silver tears lining the rims around his cold scarlet eyes.

Ban blew his nose against the material of his sleeves, _'….It was soiled anyway.'_ he thought, shivering in the sunlight.

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End notes:

[1] Even if this was marked as o1, I consider it more of a prologue. The main story starts next chapter, if you can call it that. XD

[2] Thank you to those who reviewed! It takes me a two or three days at best to finish one chapter. I'll post a delay notice whenever something comes up and the next chapter wouldn't be posted until later on. :)

[3] If anyone was wondering whether Mel/ Eli would be mentioned in the story, then yes, they will be. I did say this would include various other pairings :D.

[4] I had fun writing this chapter. I like writing emotional chapters, expect more to come! Cheers~


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